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BETSEY BOBBETT. 



A i:>RAMA. 



SCENES DUAWV FROM THE BOOR 





BV 



JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE. 



ISJ: A^I^IETT .A. 



''iEiox.i-.^sr. 



ADA3LS. N. Y. : 

W. J. ALLEN, BOOK AXD JOB PRLN'TER. 
1880. 



BETSEY BOBBETT, 



A. IDRAMA. 



SCENES DliAWN FROM THE BOOR 





BY 



JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE, 






//<<>" cO^^'^'^-^r-c^N 



I^^AuI^IETT^A. XiOIjIj^Sr. 



Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1880 by Marietta Hoi. 
LEY, m the office of Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



x-^- 

<'^^ <>\\'^ 

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DRAMATIS PERSON.C 



Josi AH Allen, a farmer, 

Samantha, his wife, 

TiRZ AH Ann, farmer's daughter, 

Thomas Jefferson, farmer's son, 

Betsey Bobbett, an old maid, 

Shakespeare Bobbett, Betsey's brother. 

Doctor Bombus, 

WiDDER Doodle, 

SOPHRONA Go WDY, 

Elder Peedick, 

Editor of Jonesville "Augur," 

Simon Slimpsey, a widower, 

Widow Tubes, 

The Peddler, : 



BETSEY BOBBETT. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Monday at the Allen's. — J!fr5. Allen kneading bread. 
Tirzah Ann umshing at the ivashtuh. — Widder Doodle picking 
over beans. — Elder Peedick sitting in the corner arranging a 
look of manuscript sermons. 

WiD. D. Oh how much these beans makes me think of 
Doodle. He died, Doodle did, and was a corpse just as quick 
as he died ; but I never can forget that dear man,' nor his line- 
nioiit never. And it hain't no ways likely that I shall ever 
marry agin'. 

Sam, Cheer up, Widder Doodle, cheer up. You'll disturb 
the Elder, and he wants to get his sermons all pinned together 
before he starts ; and J(}siah is out after the horse now, I am 
glad you stayed over Sunday with us Elder. 

Elder. I thank you, Madam. [He goes on with his work, speak- 
ing to himself ) : Let me S' e, where is the 20thly ? 

VViD. D, Couhl vou forget vour Josiah, if you lived to be his 
relLt? 

Sam. No ; I loved Josiah Allen, though why I loved 
him, I know not. But in the immortal words of the 
poet, "Love will go where it is sent." Yes, Tirzah Ann. 
r mirried your pa in mother's parlor, on the 14th day of 
June, in a bi-ovvn silk dress with a long boddist waist, from 
pure love. And that love has been like a beacon in our path- 
way ever since. Its puve light, though it has sputtered some, 
and in trying time?, such as washing days and cleaning house, 
has burnt down pretty low — has never gone out. Tirzah 
Ann, look at your father's wristbands and collar, and see if 
you can see any streaks of white on 'em. Now Tirzah Ann, 
>ou are inclined to be sentimental. You took it from your pa. 
Jo«iah Allen, if he was encouraged, would act spoony. I re- 
member when we were first engaged he called nie a little an- 
gel. I just looked at him and says I, I weigh 204 pounds by 
the stillyards ; and he didn't call me so agin. I guess he tho't 
204 pounds would make a pretty hefty angel. No, Tirzah Ann, 
sentiment hain't my style ; reason and common sense are mv 
themes. Now there is Betsey Bobbett : she is one of the sen- 
timentolest creeters that ever 1 did see. She is awful opposed 
to women's rights She says it looks so sweet and genteel, 
somehow, for wimmin to not have any rights. She says it is 
wimmin's only spear to marry. But as yet she hain't found 



any man willln' to la}^ hold of that spear with her. But she is 
always a talking about how sweet it is for wimmin to be like 
runnin' vines, a clingin' to man like ivy to a tree. 

Elder, {in a stately loay) Them are my sentiments, Mrs. 
Allen. As I remarked yesterday in my tenthly, '' Marriage is 
wimmen's only spear." And as I remarked in my fourteenthly, 
•'How sweet, how heavenly the sight, to see a lovely woman 
clinging like a sweet, twining, creeping vine to a man's manly 
strength. 

WiD. D. It is pretty to see it; I love to cling; I used to 
cling to Doodle. 

Elder. I wish 1 had known Doodle ; he must have been a 
happy man. 

Sam. But, Elder, how is a woman to cling if she hain't noth- 
in' to cling to. What are the wimnien to do whose faces are a^. 
humbly as a plate of cold greens? Is such a woman to go out 
into the street and collar a man and order him to marry her? 
Now T say a woman hadn't ort to marry unless she has a man 
to marry to — a man whose love satisfies her head and her heart ; 
some men's love hain't worth nothiii'. 1 wouldn't give a cent, 
a bushel for it by the car load. But I ujean a man that suits 
her; a man she seems to belong to, just like North and South 
America jined by nater, unbeknown to them ever since creation 
She'll know him if she ever sees him, jest as I knew my Josiah, 
for their two hearts will suit each other jest like the two halves 
of a pair of shears. These are the marriages heaven signs the 
certiticuts of; and this marryin' for a home, or for fear of bein' 
called a old maid is no more marriage in the sight of God, no 
more true ni'irriage than the blush of a fashionable woman that 
is bought for ten cents an ounce and carried home in her 
pocket, is true modesty. 

Elder. I can only repeat what I said yesterday in my 21stly. 
That it is flyin' in the face of the Bible for a woman not to 
marry. It is heaven's design that women should be a vine, and 
man a tree. 

AVid. D. I always thought my Doodle was a tree. I knew 
he was. 

Sam. Weil Elder, your wife is jest dead with the tyfus, and 
I ask you this queston. Are you willing to let Betsey Bobbett 
cling to you ? She believes jest as you do, and she is tairly dy- 
ing to make a rurmin' vine of herself ; and are you willing to 
be a tree ? 

Elder, Wall — as it were — Mrs Allen— I — that is — the re 
ligious state of the country at present is— as it were — 

Sam. Are you willing to be a tree ? 

Elder. I believe Mrs, Allen you are a strong Grant woman. 
Now I favor Blaine. 



Sam. Are you willing to be a tree? 

Elder. I guess I'll go to the barn and get my saddle bags 

Exit Elder. 

Sam. I knew jest how it would be ; I knew he wouldn't be a 
tree. 

TiRZ. A. Wall ; I don't blame him mother. You ought to 
have seen Betsey last night to meetin'. She got up to 
talk, and she would look right at Elder Peedick, and then at 
the editor of the Augur, and at Simon Slimpsey, and says she : 
I know I am religious because I feel that I love the hretheren. 
I don't blame him. 

Sam. No, nor I nnther. I don't want a man to be a tree, 
unless they want to, and I want them to use reason and not 
insist on every woman makin' a vine of herself. But the Elder 
means middlin' well, and he'd make a tolei-able good husband 
f(»r some woman. 

VViD. D. Ft haint no ways likely \ siiall ever marry again 
No other man's lirietpent can ever look to me like my Doodle's 
linement. 

8am. But the Elder has belated us dreadfully with our Mon 
day's work. Here it is most night and we have only fairlv got 
to work. But we can finish it in the morning. Yes, as 1 was 
a saying Tii'zah Ann, Betsey hain't handsome, her. cheek bones 
are too high, and she, being not much more than skin and 
bone, they show more than if she was in good order. Time 
has seen fit to deprive her of her hair and teeth, but her large 
nose he has kindly sufl:ered her to keep. I have seen a good 
many that was sentimental that had it bad ; but Betsey ha's got 
.it (he worst of anybody I ever did see, unless it is her brother 
Shakespeare, and he acts as spoony round you, Tirzah Ann. as 
any spoon on my buttery shelves. It worrys me. 

WiD I). My Doodle used to act spoony, as spoony as— as a 
teaspoon. 

Sam. Wall if I thought there was any danger, Tirzah Ann, of 
you falling in love with Shakespeare Bobbett, I'd give you a 
good thorough wort puke. That will cure most anybody if you 
take it in time. 

TiRZ. A. Wall, I gusss there hain't no chance, mother. 

Sam. Wall, mabby not. Now you wring the clothes out, 
Tirzah Ann, and hang 'em right up here on the line. 

TiRZ. A. They will look awfully, mother, hangin' up here 
We shall look as if we was settin' in a wet calico tent. 

Sam. I don't care, Tirzah Ann, we are so beat out we shall 
go to bed as soon as it is dark. 

TiRZ. A. We shall have to any way, for father forgot to take 



6 

the kerosine can, and there hain't a lamp in the house that we 
can light. But oh, dear, how it does look here, mother. I 
never in my hull life see our house look as it does to-night. It 
would mortify me most to death if any body should come in. 

Sam. Wall, there hain't no danger of anybody comin' Mon- 
day ; and we will slick up the first thing in the morning. But 
bein' up all night wi:h Thomas Jefferson, and then havin' to 
wait on the Elder, and doin' our Monday's work in the after- 
noon, has about used me up, and if you think you can finish up 
Tirzah Ann, I will soak my feet and go to bed. I am afraid I 
am goin' to be awful sick. I feel sick to my stomach all of a 
sudden, and every bit of noise goes through ray head like a 
sword. 

WiD. D. Let me get you some warm water, Samantha. 
Here, put vour feet right into it ; and here, 'put your night-cap 
on. dh dear me, how much that sickness to the stomach makes 
me think of Doodle. Do yon feel better, Samantha ? 

Sam. I shan't feel any better till I get to bed. 

Enter Josiah. 

' TiKZ. A. Why, what is the matter father ? 

Josiah [groaning). Oh ! I have been took with a dumb creek 
in my back. Give me some of that linemeut quick, and rub it 
onto my shoulders, Tirzah Ann. What is the matter with your 
mother ? Is she sick ? 

WiD D. Oh yes : Samantha is awful sick — took sudden— and 
there is Thomas J. up stairs sick abed. If there was ever a 
distressed house this is the house. 

TiRZ. A. It looks distressed, anyway 

WiD. D. Josiah, won't you try some of the Green Mounting 
salve ? 

Josiah. Oh! I don't know ; I can't set down, or stand up; 
I am awful bad off*. I want to get to bed as soon as I can. 

WiD. D. Try the Green Mounting salve, brother Josiah ; and 
oh how much that salve makes me think [looking out the win- 
dow) 

TiRZ. A. Why, for mercy's sake! Who is coming? There 
is a whole house-full of folks on the door-step. [Tirzah Ann 
and the Widder Doodle runs out of the room, as the door opens., and ten 
01" fifteen people corns in. headed by Betsey Bobhett Josiah tries to fix 
his shirt and vest round his shoulders bej ore they get in but he can't^ so 
he dives under the table. Samantha stands her ground She stands up 
and confronts them 

Betsey B. We have come to surprise you ! And in order to 
more sweetly surprise you, we have come Monday night, and 
come early. Will you not let us surprise you ? 



Sam. No! ho! VV^e will not be surprised! Yon shan't sur- 
prise us to-night! We won't be surprised! Speak, Josiah; 
tell'her ; will we be surprised to-ni^ht ? 

Josiah. {Looking out from under the table spread) No; No; we 
will not be surprised. 

Bet. B. You see aear friends she will not let us surprise her ; 
we will go ( TJiey all go out. Betsey goes last, and she turns around 
at the door and says) Maybe it is right and propah to serve a 
young girl, who has always been your friend, in this way. I 
have known you a long time Josiah Allen's wife. 

Sam. {Stepping out of the foot lath and shutting up the door) I have 
known you plenty long enough. 

Josiah {Coming out from under the tahle) Darn surprise parties, 
and darn 

Sam. Stop swenrin', Josiah Allen ; 1 should think we was 
bad enough off without swearing. But I hate surprise parties 
as bad as you do. Betsey Bobbett has led 'em into one 
houpo where they had the small-pox, and one where they was 
makin" preparations for a funeral. They are perfect nusances. 
It stMiids to reason so long as anybody has got a tongue, if they 
want to see their friends to their house, they can invite 'em, 
and if linybody is too poor to bake a cake or two, and a pan of 
cookies, they are too pooi- to go into company at all I hain't 
proud, and never was called so, but 1 don't want Tom, Dick, 
and Harry, that I never spoke to in my life, feel free to break 
into my house any time they please. I perfectly detest surprise 
parties ; but you don't ketch me swearin' abort it. 

Jos. Wall ; I will say darn Betsey Bobbett ; there now, darn 
her; oh! mj' back; {slowly sitting down) I can't sit down, nor 
stand down. 

Sam, You went under the table quick enough when they 
come in. 

Jos. Throw that in my face, will you ? What could I do ? 
My clothes all fallin' of me. 

Sam. Wall, Josiah, less be thankful that we are as well off as 
we be. Betsey might have insisted on surprisin' us. Do you 
s'pose they will be mad ? 
Jos, I don't know, nor care, but I hope they will. 
CURTAIN FALLS. 



8 

ACT. 11. 

Scene. — Widder Doodle and Tirzah Ann sitting at worh tufting a bed 
spread. -Samayitha comes in out of the garden 

Sam. I declare them hens makes me more trouble than all 
the rest of my work, keeps me a scarin' 'em out of the garden 
all the time, and that pup hain't good for anything. 

TiRZ. A. Father says all it wants is a little encouragement. 

Sam Encouragement! I should think as much. Yes I know 
your pa says that if he will run a little ahead oi it when he is a 
settin' it on to things, it will go on to one first rate. And I 
told him he had better take the pup in his arms and throw it at 
the hens mebby that would encourage it enougii. But there 
they are ; I must go and scare 'em off again. 

TiRZ. A. I'll go mother. [SJie goes out clapping her hands and 
crying '"Shoo ; Shoo ;" and the hens are heard cackling hehind the scenes). 

WiD. D. Oh how much that pup makes me think of Doodle. 
My Doodle needed encouragement. 

Tiuz. A. {Coming hack ) Here comes Betsey Bobbe'.t, mother. 
Enter Betsey. 

All Say Good morning, Belsey, 

Bet. (Sadly) Good morning. Miss Allen ; good miming, Tir- 
zah Ann; good morning Vv^idder Doo'le, {She },its down and 
takes out her tatting and commences to uork ) 

Sam. Hain't you well to-day, Betsey. 

Bet. I feel deprested to-day ; aw^'ully dcprested. 

Sam. What is the matter? 

Bet. I feel lonely ; more lonely than I have felt for yeahs. 

Sam. What is the matter, Betsey ? 

Bet. I had a dream last night, Josiah Allen's wife. 

Sam. What was it ? 

Bet. I dreamed I was married, Josiah Allen's wife. I tell 
you it was hard, after dreamin' that, to wake up to the cold 
realities and cares of this life ; it was hard. I sot up in end of 
the bed and wept, {she weeps) \ tried to get to sleep again and 
dream it ovah, but I could not. 

Sam. Wall, to be sure, husbands are handy on 4*h of Julys, 
and funeral p»'ocessions. It looks kinder lonesome to see a wo- 
man streaming along alone; but they are contrary creeters, 
Betsey, when they are a mind to be. How do you like my new 
bed-spread ? 

Bet. It is beautiful. 

Sam, Yes; it looks well enough now, but it 'most wore my 
fingers out a tuftin' it. 



Bet. How sweet it must be to wear 'the fingers out for a 
deah companion. I would be willing- to Avear mine clear down 
to the bone. I made a vow, some yealis ago. that 1 would 
make my deah future companion happy, for I would nevah, 
nevnh fail to meet him w^ith a sweet smile as he came home to 
me at twilight. I felt that was all he would require to make 
him happy. Do you think it was a rash vow, Josiah Allen's 
wife ? 

Sam. Oh, I guess it won't do any hurt. But if a man couldn't 
have but one of the two, a smile or a supper, as he came home 
at night, I believe he would take the supper. 

WiT>. D. I know JJoodle would. He had to have jest what 
he wanted to eat at jest the time he wanted it, or it would give 
him the palsy ; he never had the palsy, but he always said that 
all that kept him from it was bavin' meat vittles, or anything 
else he wanted, jest the minute he wanted it. Oh, what a man 
that was; what a linement he had on him. It hain't no ways 
likely I shall ever marry agin. No, I shan't never see another 
man whose linement will look to me like Mr. Doodleses line- 
ment 

Sam. Yes, Befse\, I believe a man would take the supper in- 
stead of the smile. 

Bet. Oh. deah I such cold practical itleahs are painful to me. 

Sam. Wall, if you ever have the opportunity you try both 
ways ; let your fire go out and you and your house look like 
fury, and nothing to eat, and you jest stand in the door and 
smile. And then again you have a nice supper — stewed oys- 
ters and creatn biscuit and p(niches, or something else first rate, 
and the table all set out as nice as a pink, and the kettle sing- 
ing, and you dressed up pretty, nnd goin' round the house in a 
sensible way, and you jest watch and see w' ich of the two 
ways is the most agreeable to him. 

Bet. Oh, food! food! what is food to the deathless emotions 
of the soul ? What does the aching young heart care what food 
it eats? Let my dear futuah companion smile on me, and that 
is enough. 

Sam. a man can't smile on an empty stomach, Betsey. And 
a man can't eat soggy bread with little chunk'^ of saleratus in 
it, and clammy potatoes, and drink dish-water tea and muddy 
coffee and smile ; or they might give one or two sickly, deathly 
smiles; but depend upon it. Betsey, they couldn't keep it up. 
I have '^een bread. Betsey Bobbett, that was enough to break 
down any man's affection, unless he had firm principle to back 
it up, and love's young dream has been dr(junded in thick mud- 
dy coffee before now. If there hain't anything pleasant in a 
man's home how can he be attached to it ? Nobody can't, man 
nor women, respect what hain't respectable, nor love what 



10 

hain't lovable. Of course men have to be corrected sometimes. 
I correct Josiah frequently. 

Bet. How any one blessed with a deah companion can speak 
about correcting- them, is a mvstery to me. 

Sam. Men have to be corrected, Betsey ; there wouldn't be no 
living- with them unless you did. 

Enter Thomas Jeffkr^on. 

Bet. Well, you can entertain such views if you will, but as 
for me, I will be clinoing; I will be ; expected by men. They 
do so love to have wimmen clinging, that I will, until I die, 
carry out this beliet" that is so sweet to them. Until I die, 1 
will neveh let go of this speah. 

Jhos. J. {aside) She has been brandishing that speah for fifry 
years. 

Sam. There is them hens agin, Thos. Jefferson ; You go and 
scare 'em out {txit Thos Jefferson ) 

Bet. There is a gentleman coming. 

Tmz. A. A peddler. 

Enter Peddler. Mrs. A. coldly greets him. Betsey gets up and 
lows. He shows his goods. 

Ped. Young lady, can't I sell you this beautiful lace neck-tie ; 
real old point lace, and only 18 pence. 
' TiRZ. A. Oh, mother, do buy it for me. 

8am. No, Tirzah Ann, no. 

Ped. Then let me sell you this jcautiful valuable rir^g. Most 
diamond dealers would want to make a protit of a hundred dol- 
lars or so on it, but I will let you have it for tive shillings. It 
weighs over a hundred and 4 carets, 

Sam. a hundred and 4 carrots ; that is a likely story. Why, 
if the carrots was any size at all that would be over a bushel. 
No, Tirzah Ann, you can't have the ring 

Ped. Can't 1 sell you something, madam. 

Wid. D. Oh, no, [ am a widder; and it hain't no ways likely 
1 shall ever marry agin. {She loeeps, icipet her eyes on her apron ) 

Ped. Here, 1 have got just w'lat you want and need. See 
this beautiful mourning handkerchief It is almost worth the 
agony of bein' a widder to enjoy the privilege of mournin' on 
such a handkerchief as that. It is richly worth 75 cents, but 
you may have it for 25, and what will you give? 

Wid. D. I will give a quarter of a dollar. 

Ped. Take it at your own price Mow Malaui {turning to 
Samantha) Let me sell you this beautiful carpet; it is the pure 
ingrain. 

Sam. Ingrain ; so be vou ingrain. 



11 

Ped T guess I know, for I bought it of old Ingrain himself. 
I give the old liian 12 shillings a j^ard for- it ; but seeing it is 
you, and I like your looks so much, and it seems so much like 
home to me here, I will let you have it for 75 cents a yard; 
'"heaper than dirt to walk on, or boards. 

Sam. I don't want it ; I have got carpets enough. 

Pkd. Do you want it for 50 cents? 

Sam. No ! 

Ped. Wouhl 25 cents be any inducement to you? 

Sam. No! 

Peu. Would 18 cents tempt you? 

Sam. Say another word to me about your old stair carpet if 
you dare ; jest 'et me ketch you at it. Be I going to have you 
a trapsin' all over the house after me ? Am I going to be made 
crazy as a loon by you ? 

Bet. Oh, Josiah Allen's wife, do not be so hasty ; of course 
the gentleman wishes to dispose of his goods, else wliy should 
he be in the mercanteel business? 

Ped. ( Turning to Betsey, takes earrings out of his pocket) I carry 
these in my pocket for fear I will be robbed I hadn't ought 
to carry them round at all ; a single man going alone around the 
country as I do ; but I have got a pistol [he takes a large pistol, 
the larger the better from his pocket. Betsey shrieks and falls back 
terribly frightened) I have got a pistol, and let anybody tackle 
me for these car-rings if they dare to. 

Bet. Is their intrinsic worth so much ? 

Ped. It hain't so much their neat value, although that is 
enormous, as who owned them informally Whose ears do 
you suppose these have had hold of? 

Bet. How can I tell, never having seen them before. 

Ped. Jest so. ^ ou never was acquainted with them, but 
these very identical creeters used to belong to Miss Shakes- 
peare. Yes, the>e belonged to Hamlet's mother. Bill bought 
'em at old Stratford. 

Bet. Bill? 

Ped. Yes, old Shakespeare. I have been with his family so 
much, that t have got into the habit of calling him Bill, jest as 
they do. 

Bet. Then you have been there ? 

Ped. Oh, yes ; I wintered there and partly summered. But 
as I was a saying. Bill give 'em to his wife ; he give 'em to Ann 
when he first be^un to pay attention to her. Bill bought 'em 
of a one-eyed man with a wooden leg by the name of Brown. 
Miss Shakespeare wore 'em as long as she lived, and they was 
kept in the family till I bought 'em ; a sister of one of his 



12 

brother-in-law's was obliged to part with 'em to get morphine. 

Bet. I suppose you ask u large price for them ? 

Ped. How much! how mucli you remind me of a favorite 
sister who died when she was tiiteen. 6he was considered by 
good judges to be the handsomest gii-1 in Noi-th Ameriea. But 
business befoi-e pleasure — I ought to have upwards ^.f 30 dollars 
a head for 'em ; but seeing it is you, and it hain't no ways likely 

that r sliall ever meet with anotlier wo young girl Ihat I 

feel under bonds to sell 'em to, you may have 'em for 13 dollars 
and a half. 

Bet. That is more money than I thought of spenciing ta-day. 

Fed. Let me tell you what I will do. I don't care seeing it's 
you, if I do get cheated. I am willing to be cheated by one 
that looks so much like that angel sister. Give me 13 dollars 
and a half and I'll throw in the pin that goes wiUi 'em. I 
did want to keep that to remind me of them happy days at 
Stratford. But take 'em , take 'em and put 'em out of my 
sight right quick, or I shall repent. 

Bet. (tenderly) I don't want to rob you of them, deah man, 

Ped. Take 'em, and give me the money quick, before I am 
completely unmanned (takes money) Take care of the ear-rings, 
and Heaven bless you. 

Exit Peddler. E?iter Thos. Jefp ekson. 

Thos. J. What have you got, Betsey ? 

Bet. Some ear-rings that used to belong to the immortal 
Shakespeai'e's wite informally. 

Thos. J. Good gracious! I saw Miss Morten this morning 
sell them to this peddler. She sold them for a dozen shirt but- 
tons, and a paper of pins. 

Bet. I don't believe it. 

Thos. J. It is the truth ; he wanted to buy old jewelry. She 
brought out some broken rings and these were in the box, and 
she told him he might have them in welcome ; but he give her 
the buttons and pins. 

Who bought for gold the purest brass ? 
Mother, who brought this grief to pass? 
What was this maiden's name ? alas ! 

Betsey Bobbett. 

Sam. Thomas Jetierson, you ought to be ashamed. Theres 
them hens again. I siiall have to scare 'em off inyselt. [Sam- 
antha goes out to frighten the hens, Betsey goes ovt the other door ; Thos. 
J. dances round and sings.) 

How was she fooled, this lovely dame ? 
How was her reason overcame ? 
What was this lovely creature's name ? 

Betsey Bobbett, 



13 

{Samantha screams ; Tlios. J , Tirzah Ann and Widder Doodle rush 
out, and Josiah comes in bringing Samantha in his arms.) 

Sam. {groaning) I wonder if you will keep that pup now. 

Jos. Maybe you didn't encourag-e it enough. Do keep still 
Samantha,' hovv do you s'pose I am going to carry you if you 
touse round so? 

[He lays her on the lounge ; Thos J and Tirzah Ann and Widder 
Doodle com,es in the widder a crying) Oh, Doodle ; Doodle ; if you 
was alive, > ou would tell your relict what to do for Samautha; 
I know you would. 

Jos. You go for Dr. Bombus, Thomas Jetierson. 

Exit Thos. Jefferson. Enter Miss Gowdy. 

Miss G. I heard you had an axident. Miss Allen, and I came 
to see if I could do anything. You hain't been well for some 
time Miss Allen, and I have mistrusted all along that you had 
the tizick. 

WiD. D. I think it is the very oh lord. 

Sam. The pain is in my foot mostly. 

Miss G. I can't help that ; there is tizick with it, and I think 
that was what ailed Josiah when he was sick. 

Sam. Why that was the newraligy the doctor said. 

Miss G. Doctors are liab'e to mistakes. I always thought it 
was the tizick. There are more folks that are tizicky in this 
world than you think for. [ am a master hand for knowing 
tizick when I see it. 

WiD. D. Tt looks more to me like the verv oh lord. 

{Enter Thos J and Doctor; Doctor very solemn and dignified, ex- 
amines her J oot ) 

Dr. B. Miss /^llen you have strong symptoms of zebra smilen 
marcellus. You need perfect quiet, and you {to Josiah) must see 
that she has it ; and Mr. Allen you must be cheerful. 

WiD. D. Hain't it more like the very oh lord. My Doodle 
had that. And oh. Doodle, Doodle, shan't I never see your 
linement again ? Oh how much sickness puts me in mind of 
him, and health, and everything. Oh Doodle, would it have 
been a confort to you to have lived to see how your widder 
mourned fo'- you. Samantha can't I help you? I know you 
have got the very oh lord, and oh, how much that disease 
makes me think of Doodle. 

Miss G. Dr. Bombus, hain't it the tizick ? 

Dr. B. No ; you can't fool me on diseases : I have never had 
my dognoses disputed. The other Dr. in Jonesville was called 
in the other day to a plain case of ganders ; he called it gailo- 
pin' consumption. The minute I sot my eyes on the man I 



14 

said ofanders. And this is a clear c ise of zebra siiiileii marcollus. 
Good landlord, you can't fool tne on ihe zebi-a. 

Sam. That is a disease I never inadc.o calculations on liavin'. 
Where does the zebra g-enerally tackle folks ? 

Dk. B. Wall, people generally have it in the posterity part of 
the brain ; but you seem to have it in the fi/Ot. Now if I can 
only keep it in the foot, keep it from the brain, 1 can help you. 

Sam. The disease is a perfect stranger to me ; do tolks ever 
get over ^he zebra ? 

Dr. B. They do when I doctor them ; but you must follow 
mv directions close. Take this decoction of squills, nox vom- 
ica, visa versa — excuse dead language — take 40 drops every half 
hour till reliei is felt and experienced. [Doctor hows to Saraantha 
and stalks out ) 

Miss G. I know it is the tizick Tirzah Ann, give me a 
piece of paper and a pencil ; this will make a item. 

WiD. D. Oh, how much that pencil makes me think ot 
Doodle. 

Sam. What is the matter. Josiah ? 

Jos. I'm bein' cheerful, Samantha 

Sam. You are bein' a natural born idiot, and do you stop it. 

Jos. I wont stop it, Samantha; I will be cheeiTul. 

Sam. WoFit you go out and let me rest awhile, Josiah Allen ? 

Jos. No ; I will stand hy you and be cheerful. Doctor Bom- 
bus said you must be kej)t perfectly quiet, and I must be cheer- 
ful before you ; it is my duty, and 1 will be. 

Sam It seems to me I should like some lemonade, if the leuj- 
ons wasn't all used uj). 

Jos. I will harness up the old mare and start for Jonesville, 
and get you some. (He goes out, hut comes hack and puts his head in- 
side the door and laughs loud ) 

Enter Betsey. 

Bet. I had just got home when [ heard of the axident, so I 
thought I would come back and spend the entiah day, {she takes 
off her hat.) How do vou feel, Josiah Allen's wife ? 

Sam. I feel ver\' bad and feverish ? 

WiD. D. Very oh lord ; jest as Doodle felt. 

Miss G. Tizick ! 

Bet. Yes; I know just how you feel. 1 have had sucn a 
fever that the sweat stood in great drops all over me. You 
need quiet. {Glares at the two women) I meant to ask you when 
I was in here before you was hurt, which do you like best, a 
sun-flower bed-quilt, or a blazing star? So many young girls 
are being snatched away lately that I want to be prepared. I 



15 

am goincr to line it with otter color : white is prettier, but 
crets soiled so easily ; and if two little children just of an age 
was a playin' on it, it would keep clean longer. I think I will 
have it a blazin' star. 

WiD. D Oh, how much that blazing star makes me think of 
Doodle and his liniment. 

Enter Editor of the Augur. 

Editor. Good day, Mr;^. Allen ; I have heard of the axident 
that has befallen you, and so as an oditor in search of informa- 
tion, I have come. I thought with your permission I would 
make you the leading article in my next week's paper. 

Bet. She's a poem, I am composing her now in my own 
mind. 

Miss G. She's a tragedy ; I am putting her down as one. 

Sam. {Putting her hand to her head mildly) Am I a tragedy ? 
Yes, I believe I am, [ feel like a tragedy, I feel awful. 

Ed. Where were you hurt? by whom? And what was the 
first and primary cause of the hurt? 

Sam. I was hurt by a hen ; the first cause was the pup ; but 
Ihey will tell you. {Betsey and Miss Qowdy go up close to him, one 
on each side.) 

Miss G. I will gladly spend hours informing you. 

Bet. Let me tell you, aeah man. 

Ed T must go ; there is a man waiting for me at the gate. 
AVid<ler Dooflle can you command you feelings suflSicientl}^ to 
step into the next room witii me and give the particulars. 

WrD. D. Oh, yes ; Doodle always said I could drive ahead of 
me as big a drove ot particulars as any woman of my size and 
heft. 1 was Doodleses wite then, and now 1 am hi^ widder ; 
1 was his widder jest as quiciv as he was dead ; and ii hain't no 
ways suposeable that I shall ever marry agin. 

Exit Editor and Widder Doodle. 

Miss G. I must go too. Little Ben has got the croup, and I 
must be to home. {She goes out.) 

Bet. Crou[) is only a hollow excuse, it is the editor that is 
drawing of her home. 

TiRz. A. Why she can't ride, he has got a load. 

Bet. Oh, she thinks she can walk along side of his wagon, 
and talk. But I won't worrj' over it no more, nor 
begrech her her privilages. I see, Josiah Allen's 
wife, that you need care ; and in order to quiet and 
soothe you, [ will read to you ; I will do all I can to keep you 
quiet to-day ; and to-morrow mother, and Aunt Maria, and all 
)ier family ; and Aunt Jane, and her children, will come down 



16 I 

and stay all day with you — stay to dinner and supper. Thej^ 
are all to our house a visiting : and mother had rather bring 
them with her than not. There is eleven of them in all, and 
they'll all put in to keep you quiet ; and you needn't make no 
fuss for them at all, though they all love boiled dinners dearly. 
And now I will proceed to read to you the longest and most 
eloquent editorial that has ever appeared in the Augur, written 
by its noble and eloquent editor. It is six columns in length, 
and is concerning our relations with Spain. 

Sam Let the editor and his relations go to Spain ; and do 
you go to Spain with your relations ; and do you start this 
minute ! [Betsey loohs frightened, gathers 2ip her calico, and moves to- 
ward the door, and says : 

Bet. I do not mind my cold rebufis, . 

To be turned out with bedquilt stuffs, l 

Philosophy would ease my smart, \ 

Would say, Oh! peace, sad female heart. j 

But, oh ! this is the vf oe to me. 

She would not listen unto he. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

\ 
\ 



17 

ACT III. 

Scene. — SamantJia's hitchen, with a great deal of work about. — Enter 

Editor of the Aitgur leading a twin ty each hand. 

Eu. My hired ^iiM has left nie, Mrs. Allen, and I want to go 
to Shackeville this morning and see if I can find one. And I 
called to see if 1 could leave a twin or two with you while I am 
gone. And Mr. Allen invited me to come l)ack to dinner; I 
told him I would, and 1 would read to you a political argu- 
ment I have written for the next \^- qqM' & Augur . It is as long as the 
President's message, and is in blank verse. {Samantha groans) 
Mr. Allen told me that the VVidder Doodle and Tirzah Ann 
had gone a visiting, and you had sights of work to do. I 
hated to ask you io take care of the twins ; but 1 really didn't 
know what to do ; I was at my wit's end. 

Sam. Probable, there has been longer journeys took than 
tiiat was ; but 1 will keep the twins. I will try to do just as 
my friend John Rogers would have done. 

Ed. Who? 

Sam. The first martyr in Queen Mary's reign. Here chil- 
dren let me take ofi' your things. But 1 have got sights and 
sights of work to do to-day, and I have got to go up into the 
wood-house chamber to do some work, and you will have to 
stay here with the twins till I come back. Here is a picture 
book they may take to recreate on while I am gone. It is 
Foxe's book of martyrs ; and oh what a comfort that book is to 
me on days like this. Anybody may say they are patient and 
unselfish, .'tnd are willing to be martyrs; but I tell you you 
can't tell what [)rinciples folks are made of till thev are sot fire 
to. Now the religion and selt-denial and sound principles of 
them old tnartyrs of Foxes, they couldn't burn U!),they couldn't 
make a fire h:)t enough. And when I am tied to different 
stakes of niartyruom, I tell you it keeps my mind cool and 
calm, to think of the i)atience of them old martyrs of Foxes, 
and coHi])are my sullerin's with thiern,and meditate on this fact, 
that fire hain't no hotter now than it was then, and though the 
soul may boy the body up triumphant, there couldn't be any 
body burnt up without smartin. Yes, I will keep the twins, 
and I will hear your blank verses; I will be down shortly. 
[Exit Samantha; Enter Betsey Bobbett). 

Bet. Good morning, deah sir. 

Ed. Good morning. 

Bet. 1 saw you coming in here and I hurried over to bring 
some poet'-y that I have been composing for \our paper. It is 
called "Gushings of a Tender Soul." And would it be any 
more soothing and comforting to you if 1 should sign my name 
Bettie Bobbett, or Betsey as 1 always have I asked Josiah 
Allen's wife if she liked the "Bettie," and she said she expected 



1« 

every day to hear some minister preach about Johnnie :he 
Baptist and Minnie Magde en, but she is cold and practical ; 
but 1 will read it. [The ticins cry and she says): Oh poor little 
motherless thint^s, how much you need a step-mother; but I 
will read. 
Ed. {aside) Gracious Heavens! What shall I do! 

Oh let who will, oh let who can, 

Be tied unto, a horrid male man. 

Thus said I ere my tendeh hea'-t was touched ; 

Thus said I ere my tendeh feelings gushed ; 

But, oh ! a change hath swept o'er me, 

As billows sweep the deep blue sea ;' 

A voice, a noble lorm, one day I saw. 

An arrow flew, my heart is nearly raw. 

His first pardner sweetly lies beneath the turf. 
He is wandering, now, in sorrow's briny surf; 
Two twins — the deah little cherub creeters, 
Can wipe the tears from off his classic features ; 
Oh ! sweet lot, worthy angel risen, 
To wipe the tears from eyes like hisen. {Editor groans.) 
Bet. May I ask you, deah man, if the twin has got oveh 
swallowing the thimble ? I heard it swallowed the hired girl's 
thimble the very day she hired out to another place, and left 
you alone. 

Ed. It aid, and I wish it had swallowed the hired girl ! I 
feel reckles«, and bad. 

Bet. Oh ! deah man ; you need to be southed. Poetry is 
soothing, and comforting, when rehearsed bv a tendeh female 
voice. I have a few lines here, composed " On a Twin Swal- 
lowing a Side Thimble." It is more on a mournful plan ; but I 
will read it to yo •. 

Ed. [Aside) Did Heaven ever witness such tribulations? [And 
icliile Betsey is reading he takes ajnstol out of hisjjocket^ airns it at her. 
and then replaces it. Betsey reads) : 

Bet -Oh, when side thimbles swallowed be. 
How can the world look sweet to he 
Who owns the twins, fair babe, heaven bless it. 
Who hath no own mother to caress it. 

Its own mother hath sweetly gone above, 
Oh, how he needs a mother's love. 
My own heart runs o'er with tenderness, 
And its own noble father tries to do his best. 

But housework, men can't perfectly understand. 
Oh, how it needs a helping hand. 
Ah! when twins are sick, and hired girls have flown. 
It is sad for a deah man to be alone. 



19 

Enter Thos. Jefferson. 

Thos J. Good morning-, editor, good morning, Betsoy ; I 
have got a poem of yours here, Betsey, that I found in father's 
tin trunk the other day. I hav'nt seen you before since I found 
it. 

Bet. {delighted) Is it possible ; your pa probably cut it out of 
some paper and has been treasuring it up. 

Thos. J. Shall I read it ? 

Bet Oh, yes; do read it, Thos. Jefferson. 

Thos. J. Josiah, I the tale have burn 

With rigid ear, and streaming eye, 
I saw from me that you did turn, 
I never knew the reason v\iiy ; 
Oh! Josiah, it seemed as if I must expire! 

[Betsey^ as he begins to read^ is lost in thought, and does not seem to 
hear, then springs up). 

Bet. Thomas Jefferson this is cruel. Give it to me ; don't 
read it, don't ! 

Ed. {in low tone) Go on. 

Thos. J. I saw thee coming down the street, 
She by your side in bonnet blue, 
The stones that grated 'neath thy feet. 
Seemed crunching on my vitals too. 

Oh! Josiah, it seems as if [ must expire. 

Bet. {mildly) Don't read any more, don't! 

Ed. Go on ! go on ! 

Thos. J. I saw thee washing sheep last night, 

On the bridge I stood with marble brow ; 
The water raged, thou clasped it tight 

I sighed, "Should both be drounded now," 
I thought Josiah, 
Oh, happy sheep, to thus expire. 

[Enter Samantha, carrying a pair of swifts with soms sheins of yarn 
on it) 

Bet. Josiah Allen's wife, shall your cruel boy be allowed to 
injure a cause, and bleed a tendeh heart? 

Sam- Thomas Jefferson what have you been up to now ? 
Ed. He has done nobly ; but I must go at once. Hired girls 
must be seen to immediately. 
Thos. J. And I must go and fodder the steers. 
Exit Editor and Thos. J. 



20 • \ 

{ One of the twins runs up to the swifts and hegins to tangU the yarn 
on it, and while Samantha attends to that, the other one tips ovei' a has- 
Tcet of apples. Samantha holds the child off with one hand while she 
picks iqy the apples loith the other.) 

Bet. If there is any object on eartli, Josiah Allen's wife, that 
I warm to, it is the sweet little children of widowers. I have 
always felt that I wanted to comfort them, and their deah pa's.| 
I have alwa\s felt that it was women's highest speah, her onlyj 
mission, to sooth, to clinof, to smile, to coo. I always felt that it 
was women's greatest i)rivelege. her crowning blessing to soothe; 
lacerations, to be a sort of a poultice to the manly breast when; 
it is torn with the cares of life. Do you not think so ? 

Sam. Am I a poultice, Betsey Bobbett ? Do I look like one? 
Am I in a condition to be one ? I have done a big ironing to^ 
day, churned ten pounds of butter, scalded two hensand picked 
'em, made seven pies and a batch of nutcakes, two pans of 
cookies, and mopped all over. And now I have got these 
twins on my hands, all this carpet yarn to double, blank verses,; 
ahead on me, and dinner to get, and now I am called on to be; 
a poultice. What has my sect done that they have got to be! 
lacerator-soothers and poultices, when they have got ever)-: 
thing el"e under the sun to do. Everybody says that men are 
stronger than wimmen, and w^^-y should they be treated like 
glass-china, liable to break to pieces every minute? And if 
they have got to be soothed, why can't they git some man to, 
soothe 'em ? They have a-^ much agin time as wimmen have.; 
Evenin's they don't have anything else to do, they might jestj 
as well be a soothin' each other a> to be ;« hangin' round gro-: 
eery stores, or settin' bv the fii"e whittlin'. .' i 

Bet. Oh ! it iiiust be so sweet, so strangely sweet, to sootli^j 
the manly breast : to soothe, to smile, to coo. 

Sam. T am perfectly willing to coo it T had time ; and I hadj 
jest as lives soothe lacerations as not, if I hadn't everything! 
else under the sun to do. I had jest as lives sit down and| 
smile at Josiah Allen by the hour, and smooth down his baldj 
head affectionately, but who would fry the nut-cakes, and make! 
f he ginger cookies I could coo at him day in, and day out,; 
but who would skim milk, and wash pans, and darn, and fry,j 
and bake, and bile, while I was a cooin' ? i 

Bet. Oh! Josiah Allen's wife; we shall always difieh on^ 
the subject of coos. But I wish to crave your advice on a deep! 
and solemn subject. Martin Farquieh Tuppeh is one of thej 
sweetest poets of the ages. My sentiments have always blend-; 
ed in with his sentiments. I have always flew with his flights, 
and soared with his soars. And last night after I had retired, 
one of his sublime ideahs come to me with a power I neveh 
felt before. It knocked the bolted door of my heart open, and 
said: "Betsey Bobbett, you have not neveh done it." He remarks; 



21 

that if anybody is going to be married, tlieir deah future com- 
panion is on earth, though we may neveh liave seen him, or 
her, and it is our duty to pray for tlmt future companion. 
Josiah Allen's wi^'e. I have not neveh done it ; I feel condemned. 
Would vou begin to pra)^ now ? 

Sam Are you going to pray for a husbanti, or about one ? 

Blt. [mournfully) A little of both. 

Sam. Wall, I don't know as it would no any hurt, Betsey. 

Bkt. 1 will begin to pray to-night, but that is not all. Folks 
must work as well as pray ; I am going to take a decided stand. 
Be you a going to the quire mteting to-morrow night ? 

Sam. I am layin' out to go if I hain't too lame. 

Bet. Josiah Allen's wife will you stand by me? There is 
not another female woman in Jonesville that I have the firm 
unwaverin' confidence in that I have in you. You always 
bring about whatever you set your hands to, and I want to 
know will you stand by me to-morrow night? 

Sam. What undertakin' have you got into your head now, 
Betsey Bobbett ? 

Bet. I am going to encourage the editor of the Augur. That 
man needs a companion. Men are offish and bashful and do 
not always know what is best for them. 1 have seen horses 
hang back in the harness before now ; I have seen geese that 
would not walk up to be picked ; I have seen children hang 
back tVom pikery The horses ought to hQ made to ^o ; the 
geese oujiht to bo held and picked; the children ought to take 
the pikery if you have to hold their nc^-es to make them. The 
editor of the Augur needs a companion, and I am going to en- 
courage that man to-morrow night, and I want to know Josiah 
Allen's wife, it yoi; will stand by tne ? 

Sam. You Isiiow, Betsey, that 1 can't run ; I'm too fat and 
lame; and then I'u) gettin' too old. Mebby I might walk up 
and help you coi-ner him, but you know I can't run for any- 
body. 

Enter Josiah. 

Jos. The Editor has come, and wants me to fetch out the 
twins. 

Sam. Why I thought he was coming back to take dinner, 
and read his blank verses. 

Jos. Wall, he was unhitchin' his horse, and I happened to men- 
tion that I gut ssed Betsey would be here to dinner too ; and 
lie jumped into that buggy agin' like iightnin', and hollered 
out : " Fetch out the twins ?" Be acted sort o' crazy like, and 
skairt. 

Bet. So sweetly sensitive, he lears to be forward and intru- 
sive. 



22 

Jos. I told him to stay ; I told him 3^011 would have a awful 
good dinner, and I knew what it was to be a widower and live 
on pancakes. But all he said was to yell out, "Fetch out the 
twins." 

[Samantha goes to jmtting on the childrens' wraps ) 

Bet. Oh, do not be in such haste, Josiah Allen's wife. The 
editor may come in to dinner if you don't hurry so, and I will 
stay too. [Betsey fixes herhnir, arranges her neck tie and looTcs anx- 
iously from the window ; then goes and walks from the windoto to the 
door peering out in hopes he will come in) 

Jos. There hain't no use on waiting-, you won't ketch him in 
here. Hear him now. [A voice fro7n hehind the scenes): 

Ed. Fetch out the twins. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



ACT IV. 

Scene — Outside of cottage — Josiah and Samantha within. — Cats 
heard fighting drendj ully behind the scenes — Upper icindow opens^ 
and TTwmas J throws out something to scare cats. — When Josiah real- 
izes that it is a serenador, he gets out of bed and starts for the door — 
Samantha pulling him back again — Yoic can see their head and 
shoulders as they passby an open window below — Samantha with night- 
gown and night cap on ; Josiah in similar raiment^ only with a tall hat 
and umbrella- They pass by the leindow several times, as he is determined 
he tcillgo out and stop the music, and she will not let him. — During 
the serenade Tirzah Ann appears at an vppm' window opj^osite Thomas 
Jefferson with a night-cap> on and a bouquet of flowers — She vainly 
endeavors to attract Shakespeare's attention. 

Thos. J. You've preached long- enough brothers, on that 
text; I'll put in a 7thly for you. [Throws boot.) You've pro- 
tracted your meeting- here long enough; you may adjourn, now, to 
somebody else's window, and exhort them a spell. [Throws 
something more ) Now I wonder if you'll come round on this 
circuit right away. 

Sam. Thomas Jefferson, stop that noise. 

Jos. Do let him be ; do let him kill the old creeters, I am 
wore out. 

Sam. Josiah, I don't mind his killin' the cats, but I won't 
have hiiii talking about holding protracted mectin's and 
preechin' ; I won't have it. 



23 

Jos. Wall, do lay down ; the most I care for is to get rid of 
the cats. 

Sam. You do have wicked streaks Josiah, and the way you 
let that boy go on is awful. Where do you think you will go 
to, Josiah Allen ? 

Ji'S. I shall go into another bed if you can't stop talkin'. I 
have been kept awake till midnight by them awful creeters,and 
now you want to tinish me. Oh, dummit^ them dum cats are 
at it agin 

Sam. ^Yell, you needn't swear so if they be ; but I say it 
hain't cats. 
Jos. It is. 

Sam. I know better , it hain't cats 
Jos. Wall, if it hain't cats, what is it ? 
Sam. It is a acordeun. 
Jos. How come a acordeun under our window ? 

Sam. It is Shakespeare Bobbett seranadin' Tirzah Ann, and 
he has got under the wrong window. Josiah Alen come back 
here this minute'; do you realize your condition ; you hain't 
dressed. 

Jos. Wall, I can put my hat on I 'spose. 

Sam. Yes, a stovepipe hat is a great protection. Josiah 
Allen if you go to the door in that condition, I'll prosicute you. 
What do you mean bv acting so. You was voung once your- 
self. 

Jos. I wasn't a confounded fool, if I was young 

Sam. Comeback to bed, Josiah Allen ; do you want to get 
the Bobbetses and the Doodleses mad at you ? 

Jos ^ es, I do. 

Sam. I should think you would be ashamed of yourself, 
swearin' and actin' as you have ; and you'll end by gettin' your 
death cold. [S1iakes2)eare Bobbett has appeared outside with a guitar, 
and played a strain, as if uncertain of the Tcey. Think, oh, think 
of me). 

Jos No danger of our not thiiikin' on you, no danger on it. 

{Shakespeare ylays and sings ) 

Come, oh, come with me, Miss Allen. 

The moon is beaming ; 
Oh, Tirzah ! come with me, * 

The stars are gleaming. 

All around is bright with beauty beaming, 
Moonlight hours in mv opinion, 

Is the time for love. 



24 

Chorus — Tra la la, Miss Tirzah, 
Tra la la, Miss Allen, 
Tra la la, tra la la. 
My dear young maid. 

Sam. Josiali Allen, if you make another move I'll part with 
yon. It does beat all how you act. Do you think it is any 
comfort for me to lay here and hear it ? You was yourg once 
yourself. 

Jos, Throw that in my face ag'in will you ? Whut if 1 wuz ? 
Oh ! do hear him beginnin' agin. I should like to know what 
comfort there is in his prowlin' round here, makin' two old 
folks lay all night in perfect agony. 

Sam. It hain't much aftef midnight, and if it was, do yoi. 
caicolate to go through life without any trouble ? It you do 
you'll find yourself mistaken. {Shakespeare sings to the same time.) 

When I think ofthee, thou lovely dame. 

I feel so weak and overcame 

That tears would flow from my eye-lid. 

Did not my stern manhood forbid. 

For Tirzah Ann— for Tirzah Ann, 

I am a melancholy man. 

I'm wasting slow, my last year's ves-t 
Hangs loose on me; my nightly rests 
Are thin as gause, and thoughts of you, 
Gashes 'em wildly through and through. 
Oh I Tirzah x\nn ; oh, Tirzah Ann ; 
I am a melancholy man. 
Jos. You'd be a melancholy man my young feller it I was 
out there half a minute with a club. Sjunautha, lemme go 
out, dummit ; I will go I 

Sam. Do you stop swearin' and be calui. 

Jos, I won't be calm, and I will say dumuiit; there now, 
dummit! 

S. Bob. {sings) Oh! I languish for thee; lam languishing for 
thee. {Upper iciadow opens again.) 

Thos J My musical young friend, havn't you languished 
enough tor one night? Because if you have, father and mother 
and I, being kept awake by other serenaders the fore-part of 
the night, will love to excuse you, will thank you for your labors 
in our belialt and love to bid you good evening — Tirzah Ann 
being fast asleep in the other end ot tlie liouse. But don't let 
me hurry you Sliakespeare, my dear young friend, if you havn't 
languished enough, you keep right on languishing, 1 hope I 
hain't so hard hearted enough to deny a young man and neigh- 
bor the privilege of languishing, {Shakespeare departs.) 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



25 

ACT Y. 

Scene — Jodah Allen'' s toife with honnet on ready to start. — She says to 

herself: '"7 wonder why Josiah Allen don't come. We shall le lata 

to that quire meetin\'' — When Simon Slimpsey rushes in and sinTcs 

down in a chair. 

Simon. Am I pursued ? 

Sam. There hain't nobody in sight. Has your life been at- 
tacked by burglers and incindiarys ? Speak, Simon Slimpsey, 
speak ! 

Simon. Betsey Bobbett ! 

Sam. What of her, Simon Slimpsey ? 

Simon. She'll be the death on me, and my sou] is jeopard- 
ized on account of her. To think that I, a member of a auth- 
ordox church, and the father of thirteen small children, could 
be tempted to swear. But I did, not more'n two minutes ago. 
I said, By Jupiter! I can't stand it so much longer. And 
last night to meetin', when she was payin' attention to me, I 
wished I was a ghost ; for I tii ought if I was a apperition I 
could vanish from her view. Oh ! 1 have got so low as to wish 
I was a ghost. She come a rushin' out of Deacon Gowdy's 
just now as I came past jest a purpose to talk to me. She 
don't give me no peace. Last night she would walk tight to 
my side all the way from meetin' and she looked so hungry at 
the gate, as [ went through and fastened it on the inside. 

Sam. Mebby she'!' marry the editor of the Augur. She is 
payin' attention to him. 

Simon. N© ; she won't get him ; I shall be the one, I always 
W'as the one. It has always been so, if there was ever a under- 
lin' and a victim wanted, I was that underlin' and 
that victim. And Betsey Bobbett will get round me yet, you 
see if she don't. 

Sam. Cheer up. Simon Slimpsey; folks hain't obleeged to 
marry it they don't want to. 

Simon. Yes they be ; if folks get round 'em. Hain't you seen 
her verses in last week's Aiigur? 

Sam. No, I liaint. {Simon hands Tier the paper and sh£ reads): 

Oh, wedlock is our only hope. 

All o'er this mighty nation, 
Men are brought up to other trades, 

But this is our vocation ; 
On ! not for sense or love ask we, 

We ask not te be courted. 
Our watchword is to married be, 

That we may be supported. 



26 

Say not you're strong and love to work, 

Are healthier than your brother, 
Who for a blacksmit*' is desicrnecl, 

Such feelings yon i-iii-t Piiiotlier; 
Your restless hands fold up or ^ripe 

Your waist into a span, 
And spend your strength in looking out 

To hail the coming man. 

Chorus. — Press onward, do not fear, sisters, 
Press onward, do not fear, 
Kemember women's spear, sister. 
Remember women's spear. 

Sam. Wall, she believes that marryin' is wimmens only 
spear. 

Simon. It is that spear that is going to destroy me. 

Sam Don't give up so Simon Slimpsey ; I hate to see you 
lookin' so gloomy and deprcsted 

Simon. It is the awful determination of them lines thai apauls 
me. I have seen it in another. Betsey Bobbett remind« me 
dreadfull)" ot another ; she makes me think of that first wife of 
mine. And I don't want to marry again Miss Allen, I don't 
want to. I didn't want to marry the first time, I wanted to be 
a bachelder. I think they have the easiest time ofitbyhalf. 
Now there is a friend of mine that is only half an hour younger 
than I be, and that hadn't ought to make much difference in our 
looks, liad it ? 

Sam. No, Simon Slimpsey. it hadn't. 

Simon. Well ; you ought to see what a head of hair he's got 
now ; sound to the roots, not a lock missing. I wanted to be 
one. but my late wife come and kept house for me, and — and 
married me. I lived with her for eighteen years, and when 
she left me I was — I was reconciled. I was reconciled some 
time before it took place. I don't want to say nothin' against 
nobody that hain't round here in this world, but I lost a good 
deal of hair by my late wife ; and I wanted to keep a lock or 
two for my children to keep as a relict of me. I have got thir- 
teen, as you know, countin' each pair of twins as two, and it 
would take a considerable number of hairs to go round. I 
don't want to marry agin. 

Sam. Mebby you are borrowin' trouble without cause, Simou 
Slimpsey, with life there is hope. Don't give up so Simon 
Slimpsey; mebby she'll marry the editor of the /Iw^wr ; she's 
payin' lots of attention to him. 

Simon. No, he won't have her, she'l get round me yet — you 
mark my words, and when the time comes you will think of 
what I told you. (Simon weeps) You see if she don't get round 
me yet. 



Sam Chiriv up, Simon Slimpsey, be a man. 

Simon. That Ir the trouble, if I wasn't a man she would 
give me some peace. {He weeps Utterly. The curtain falls, hut 
rises ifnmediately for the quire scene ) 



Scene — II— Quire Meeting — Two or three rows of seats, — Any 
number of Singers, the more the better — Editor takes chair in 
center offii'st row — Betsey and Iliss Gowdy both try to take the 
vacant seat at his left : Ifiss Gowdy gets it— Betsey sits in 
front 7'ow at right of Editor, not 7iext to him — Samantha and 
Josiah sit at left of Hiss Gowdy— Elder Peedick, the leader, 
stands at the right— Josiah and Samantha come in arm in arm 
after most of them get seated — Josiah says as they walk in, 
Don't le a lockin' arms, Samantha, it will make talk— Elder 
Peedick distributes books. 

Eld. p. We will commence this evening by singing the 
hvmn— "How blest was Jacob." We will sing it to the tune of 
Ortenville. Widder Tubbs, will yon play the instrument ? 
{some old melodeon). 

8. Bob. The metre is too long. 

Tfios. J. Yes, there i^; too much tune for the w rds. 

Eld. p. I believe I am running this qui e {He takes out a 
tuning fork and tries it, and commences). How blest was Ja-a- 
a-a-cob. Lenime see. I didn't get the riglit key. {tries again) 
How blest was Ja-a-fol-de-rol-cob. 

Thos. J. You had be'ter try some other patriarch, and see if 
you caa run him througli the tune. 

S. Bob. I knew when the tune and words was added up 
there would be tune to carry. 

Eld. p. Shakespeare Bobbett, do you keep still, and don't let 
me ketch you a pressin' the key to-night. 

S. Bob. I shall press as many keys as I am a minter for all 
you : you are always tindin' fault with sumthin' or other. 

Eld. p. Perhaps we had better try some more familiar 
hymn. We will sing on page 200. The duet between the 
sultireno and the beartone will be sung by the editor of the 
Augur and Betsey Bobbett. 

Miss G. I believe I can sing that full as well as another cer- 
tain person. 

Bet Sophrona. I shall sing it, it has been give out, and Elder 
Pedick, you had better give Miss Gowdy a book. She seem 



28 

to have to look over with the editor. {Elder Peedlck gives the 
key and they all sing). 

Though the old man rises fearful, 
In our hearts renewed by sfrace, 
Yet his work is sad and direful, 
That old man is our disgrace. 

{Duet — That same vei^se set to the song,'' When thy bosom heaves 
a sigh/^ Betsey ayulthe editoi^ stai'ts. Betsey gets her part too 
low, they sing it as far as ^^ Though the old man'' ' —when Josiah 
rises.) 

Jos. It is a shame for a woman to sing alone in a room full 
of men. {He begins and sings the ivhole verse through to the 
tune of Greenville.) 

Sam. Josiah, if you say another word I'll part with you. 
What do you mean, Josiah Allen? 

Jos. I'm singing base. 

Sam Do you sit down and behave yourself; she has pitched 
it to low. It hain't base. 

Jos. I know better, Samantha ; it is base. I guess I know 
base when I hear it, and as long as I call myself a man, I will 
have the privilege of singing base. 

Sam. Sing! I'd call it singing 

[So'phronia and the Editor now take advantage of Betsey'' s con- 
fusion and go triumphantly through it. All then repeat the first 
part singing it well to the tune of Arlington.) 

Peedick. We will now have a inte"mi^.>ion of five minutes. 

[Editor drains Samardhato front of stage n.nd says) : 

Ed. How sweet it is Josiah Allen's wi-^e, for a noble but 
sto»'U)-iosted bark to anchor in, a beautlftd calm. How sweet 
it i«! when you see ;he ?-aveuin' tempest asuiilin' at you, I mean a 
• lowerin' at you, to feel that it can't harm you. that you are 
beyond its reach. Josiah Allen's wife. I feel safe and happy 
to-night; I believe you are my friend 

Sam. Yes, and you well-wisher ; whateve'* hai)pen^, if you 
are ever encouraged, or any othe<" trial comes to you, remember 
that I wished you well and pitied you. 

Ed. Instead ot pi<.ying me, wish me joy. I am mar''ied, I 
was married a week ago. 

Sam. Who to ? 

Ed. The prettiest o:i"l in Log London. She is at her father's 
now, but will be here in a few days. I must go, the twins will 
be waking up. Yes, M'ss Allen, I am married and safe. 
Exit Editor. 

Bet. Ketch hold of me, Josiah Allen's wife, ketch hold of 
me. I am on the very point of swooning. 



29 

Sam. Ketch hold of yoai-self. 

Bet. One of my deaL'est gazelles is a dying. One of my fond- 
est hopes is a withering. 

Sam. Let 'em withe.'. Betsey Bobbett, this gaze lie is mar- 
r'ed. and tuere hain't no use in yourfollowm' on that trail any 
longer. * Do 'ry and behave till meeiin' is out. 

P^ :dick. We wi'l now sing on page 99. Sing the words on 
page 99 to the tune of old Noi-thfield. 

All. We're sinners wandering every day, 
P"e-sum-shu-ous, and bo'd. 
We all a,-e sheep — 
We all are sheep — 
We all ai'e sheep that's gone astray, 
And wande**ing from the fold. 

[Widdcr Doodle cWing in the corner weps and says:) Ob 
how much that sheep mates me think of Doodle. 

All S) sa. Oh yes, pre-sum-shu-ous we a'^e, 
And blind, and halt, and lame. 
We all are mean — 
We all are mean — 
We all are raeau'ng to be good, 
But nothing can we claim 

Peedick. We will now sing ihe verse which Miss Bobbett 
composed for her own private devotions, but which she kindly 
pei'inits the qu're tO u^e. She says it should be sung with 
g -eat expression ;:nd feeling. [Be'jsey, who has been weeping 
gets up and sings inia.) 

All Sing. Oh! sad [ wander down life'* vale, 
And d-!nk life's bilte'* cup. 
Send down the man — 
Sena down the man — 
Send down tlie rn.inna of -ich grace, 
And I will rake it up. 

Tir.z. K. I don't like the hymns we have sung to-nignt. We 
hain't all sheep, and we don't all of us want men seat down. 

Mtss G. It don't look well, Tirzah Ann, for you to be cor- 
!"ec^ mg your betters. 

Bet. [Severely.) Tirzah Anw Allen, you are too young to re- 
alize t-nngs. 

Peedick. We will now^sing, "How Sweet for Bretheren to 
Agree." Sing it to the tune of Bovlslon. 

All. How sweet for b-etheren to — 

Peedick. T.-y again ; now: {Gives hey.) 

All. How sweet for bretheren to — 



30 

S. Bob. You hain't got tune enough for the Nvords ; the best 
calculator in tunes couldn't do it. 

Peedick. I can't do anytbhig ; j^ou flat the notes so. 

S. Bob, I don't flat any more than the rest do. 

Peedick. You young viilian, you do. {Widde?' Tubbs jumps up 
in front, stands with her bach to. tne audience, beats time and sings. All 
join in after thefirct line, ajid when the rest sing •• unity,'' Shakespeare 
Bobbeit sings •' oaion iea."'' They sing chorus to "'Oh that will he joyful " 

How sweet for bretheren to agree, 
How sweet for bretheren to agree, 
How sweet for bretheren to agree, 
And dwell in unltee ; 
And dwell in unitee-e-e, 
And dwell in unitee. 
How sweet for bretheren to agree. 
And dwell in unitee. {Shakespeare singing out last full 

and clear, "Onion tea.''') 

WiD. D. My Doodle loved onions {As they go out Josiah looks 
back and says :) 

Jos. You come right home, Tirzah Ann ; don't be loiterin' 
along the way. {Widder Doodle goes out last, and as she gets almost 
to the door Elder Peedick, w7io fujs been picking up the books, calls her 
back.) 

Eld. p. Widder, I want to speak with you {She goes back and 
they sit down on one of the benches.) 

Eld. p. I hain't seen you but once beforr> since I was a wid- 
ower. It was a awful blow to me ; a hard blow. {Smiting his 
breast. ) 

WiD D. I feel to sympathize with \ ou ; I know how I felt 
when I lost Doodle. 

Peedick Yes ; I tell you Widder. T have seen trouble lately. 
A spell ago I lost the b^^st cow I had ; then I lost a new um- 
brel\ and a whale-bone wh'p, and now my wife is dead. [ 
tell you it cuts me right down; it makes me feel poor. You 
wasn't acquainted with the corpse, I believe. 

WiD. D. No, but I have heard her well spoke of. 

Peedick. Yes, she was a lovely woman. My heartstrings 
was wrapped completely around he. Not a pair of panta- 
loons have 1 hired made sense we was both married to each 
other, nor a vest. I tell you it wasfhard to lose her, dretful 
hard. I never realized how much I loved that woman till I 
see I must give her up, and hire a girl at 2 dollars a week — and 
they waste more than their necks are worth. I tell you my 
heart is full of tender memories of that woman, when I 
think how she would get no and build fires in the winter — 



31 

WiD. D. That is what I always dUl lor my Doodle. He 
would be a dreamin' how pretty I was, and how much he 
loved ii)e, and he'tl want to ^j^o to sletp agin and dream it over 
So I woi'ld get up and split the kindlin' wood and bflild th 
fire, and get breakfast, so's to let him lay and dream about me- 
1 love to btiild fires. 

Peedick. Do you love to build fires, Widder? I wish you 
had been acquainted wi<^h >he corpse; I believe you would 
have loved each other like sis'ers. 

WiD D You must ch'rk up Elder Peedick, you must look 
forward to happier days. 

Peedick. I know there ^*s another spear and I try to bang my 
hopes up on it, a spear where hi'-ed girls ai'e unknown and 
partings are no roo"e. 

WiD, D. I can't bear b'red girls. 

Peedick. You look like the corpse; you do look like he^", I 
see it plainer and plainer. And oh, what a woman that was, 
she knew her place so well; she always said w'mxnen wasn't 
equal to men. You couldn't have h.-red her to have had.^-ights. 
she always said wimmin was too dellca'e and feeble io have 
rights; she said that she had rather dig potaioes any day 
than to have 'em. She could dig po.atoes as fast as a man. 

TViD. D. I knew I wasn't tae equal of Doodle. He rsed to 
set in the rock'n' chair wh^^e I would be aho'ngout the garden, 
or bringin' in wood, or churnm' and read such beautiful argu- 
ments 10 me, and so convincin', provia' it ah out how havin' 
rights would be too much for the weaker sect; and iuatmen 
wouldn't feel nigh so tender ana reve ential towards 'em as ^liey 
did now. 

Pekdick. Then you used to hoe out the garden and bring in 
wood 

WiD. D. Yes, I loved to; I loved to dear'y. 

Peedick. Widder, I am a man of business. My wiie has 
been dead three weeks, and she won't be no deade" if I should 
wait three months as some men do. I hea -d you a praisin' up 
my wagon and span of mares to-nignt, and if you'll be my 
br'ide, the wagon is yours aiid i he mares. Widder, I th 'ow 
myself onto your feet, and I throw the wagon and the mares 
onto 'em, and with them and me. I throw eighty-five acres of 
good land, 14 cows, 5 calves, 4 th'-ee-year-oMs, and a yearlin',a 
dwell 'n' house, a good hoi'se barn and myself. I Ihrow *em 
all onto your feet, and there we lay on 'em. 

Wid. D. Oh, Doodle ! Doodie ! if you was alive yoa would tell 
your widdet' what to do to do right. 

Peedick. Widder, I am a laylu' on your feet, and my 
property, my land, my live stock, my housen and my housen 



32 

stuff, a'-e all a laym' on 'em. Mai e up your rri'nd at once, fo* 
if you don't consent, I have g-Ot othei* views ahead of me which 
must be seen to at once. Time is hasten^n' and the wo -Id is 
full of will'n' wlmmen. Widder what do you say? 

WiD. D. Wail, I have got Irincier out. the hab't of ma-'ryin', it 
comes kinder natu'-a^ to me, and your linemen^ looks a good 
deal like Dood(e'« linement 

Peeoick. Then you consent, wkUler. Wall we w'll be ma'*- 
r*ed a week from Sunday ; we will be ma vied Sunday so's not 
to break into tne week's wo-k. And I w'il turn oT my h'-ed 
gi''i, and yon can come right to my house and do the liouse- 
work, and help me what you can out doo-'S. and tend to the 
m'lk of 14 .:ows and be pe fectiy happy. 

CURTAIN FALLS. 

ACT VL 

Scene — Betsey and Simon Slimp^cy at home. — Eight or nine children 
in varioLS stages of distress^ races tied up, etc. — Two cradles with 
children in them. — Betsey sewing — Simon trying to take care of th£ 
children. 

Enter Josiah Al^en. 

Jos, Good mornin', Simon ; good mornin', Betsey. 

Bet. {Haughtily.) Excuse my not getting up and setting you 
a chair, Josiah Alien. Being married, I don't have to be so 
particular in my mannei-s as I used to. Thank heavens ! I can 
hold my head up now as high as anybody. 

Jos. We heard you was all sick up here, and I thought [ 
would come in and see how you was. 

Bet. Are yo'i not all coming to the reception (o-n<ght ? 

Jos. Yes, I 'spose so ; and Samant ha told me if there was 
anything she could do tor the children, she wouUI come earlier. 

Simon. I wish she would come and see if something can't be 
done for 'em. They have all got the mumps and measles, and 
colic, and evejwth^ng. And she's to work all the time on hef 
ridjn' d'-ess, and fi::in' for ih's doin's of her'n. [ t "led to have 
her put it off tMl tive or six of the children got better ; but she 
won't. 

Bet. No ; I told my husband, Mr. Slimpsey, that my dignitv 
as a married woman was at stake. In common times it is well 
to attend to sickness, but now, dignity and style both demand 
that I recieve to night. 

Jos. Wall ; Samantha will come right over. 

Bet. Tell her Mrs. Simon Slim}>sey will be glad to see her; 
formally Bobbett. [Exit Josiah, and soon Samantha comes in follow- 
lyy Miss Gowdy and Mrs. Elder Peedich.) 



33 

Miss G. How do j^ou do, Betsey ? 

Bet. [Coldli/, liolcUng out. her hand, hut not rising.) I am glad voii 
come early, Sophronia 1 want you to feel free with me, just as 
if I was not mari-ied. I shaU still associate with my old 
friends. I don't mean to show out no more haughtiness than 
I can help. I have told my husband, Mr. Slimpsey, that I 
should not turn my back on all single women now, if I was 
rose above 'em in station. Help yourself to some chairs. {They 
sit down and Samantha and Mrs. Peedick each of them take uiJ a child 
on their laps ) 

8am. How are the children now? 

Simon. The seventh boy is worse, and the twin girls are 
took down with it. It would be a melancholly pleasure if you 
could do something for 'em. 

Sam. Have they been sweat ? 

Bet. No; I told my husband, Mr. Slimpsey, that I would 
not sweat them until after our reception. Sweating child- 
ren is more or less depressing in its effects, and I felt that 1 
needed all my youthful spirits and energies to support the 
weight of dignity that will enwrap me on this occasion like a 
mantilly. 

Mrs. Peedick. I sweat Doodle when he had the very oh lord, 
till the sweat run righi ofi his linement, and blistered both his 
feet till he couldn't stand up on em ; and I shall probably try 
to make Elder Peedick jest as comfortable when he is sick. 
But, oh Doodle, Doodle; your relict never can forget you, 
never. 

Sam. Ciiii-k \\\) Mis^ Peedick; don't try to be a widder and 
a wife at the same time. Don't try to be a mourner for one man 
and a bride to another man simultanius It is jest an onre- 
sonable as it would be to try to set down and stand up at once. 
Betsey, have you give 'em any smart weed ? 

Bet. No; If my husband, Mr. Slimpsey, approves, I shall 
probably s eep up some after the reception, and after I com- 
plete this riding dress. [ have had to write a poem to read 
ui)on this occasion. 'A Him of victory," and it has hindered 
me about my dress. I need it, for I shall want, to ride out and 
take the air as soon as the (children get well, for eyen married 
people cannot breathe without air, and I wan't to finish this 
for my first appearance on horseback after marriage. I have 
nothing to wear suitable for a bride, and this pale-plue cambric 
trimmed with otter color, will be becomin' to me, and very 
dressy. I knew a good deal would be expected of me in my 
changed circumstances I shall probably attract a great deal 
ofa< ntion. 



34 • 

Miss G. I should think you would, ridin' that old horse of 
your'ii. His ribs look like wash-boards. 

Sam. I should jest as lives ride a case-knife. 

Miss G. Most dead with blind stag-gers! and lame as he can 
be, a stuniblin' and a fallin' all the time. 

Bet. L got something now to sustain mt- and hold me up, if 
horses do fall under me. They may lame me, but I haye got a 
dignity, now, Sophronia. that horses cannot give neither can 
they take away. I'm married mow. [Simon groans). I shall 
also appear at conference meeting next Sunday evening for the 
first time alter marriaofe. There is one thing I feel as if I must 
say in public at once, and that is, that I believe in the perse- 
verence of saints. 

Miss G. Saints ! 

Bet. I will now go and make a few changes \a ray toilet for 
the occasion. [She goes out carrying her riding-dress ) 

Sam. I havn't seen you before, Simon since your marriage 

Simon. I knew it would come to this, Miss Allen ; I told 
you how it would be. She always said it was her sp{!ar to 
marry, and I knew I should iie the one ; I always was the one. 

Sam. Does she use you w^ell, Simon. 

Simon. She's pretty hai-d on me. I hain't had my way in 
anything sense the day she mar'ied me. She began to hold 
my nose to the grindstone, as the sayin' is, before we had 
been married two hours; and she hain't no house-heeper, or 
cook I have had to live on pan-cakes 'most of the time since 
it took place, and they're tougher than leather. 1 liave been 
'most tempted to cut some out of my boot-leg, to see if they 
wouldn't be tenderer; but [ never should hear the last of it if 
I did. She jaws me awfully, and ordei's me 'round as if I was 
a dog. If I was a yeller dog she couldn't seem to look down 
on me more, and treat me any worse. 

Sam. Wall ; I always did mistrust them wimmen that don't 
want any rights, only to cling and coo. But I don't want to 
run anybody to their back. She thought it was her spear to 
marry. 

SixAioN. I told you that spear of her'n would desti oy me, and 
it has. [He weeps ) 

[Enter Betsey, with several pairs of ragged pantaloons to mend over 
Tier arm, and several sheets of foolscap) p>aper in, her hand. ) 

Bet. I thought perhaps I could get a few minutes to sew be- 
fore the arrival of our guests. I have 7 pairs of pantaloons to 
mend before I retiah. l^hildren wear out clothing so rapidly. 



35 

and onr children seem to make a specialty of ripping- and tear- 
ing. We have been obleeged to put two of them to bed on 
that account, and they are swearing now violently in bed, at 
their step niotheh, because I have not been able to mend their 
clothes in time for the receinion. . 

Sam. Are you happy, Betsey ? 

Bet. r am at rest ; more at rest than I have been for years ! 

Miss G-. {LooMng round at the sick children and talcwg uv the rag- 
ged iiantaloons and looking at them .•( At rest I 

Sam. Are you happy, Betsey ? 

Bet. 1 feel awful dignified. There is not any use in a 
woman's trj^ing to feel dignified until she is married. I have 
tried it and I know. I can truly say, Josiah Allen's wite, that 
I never knew what dignity was until one week ago last Sunday 
night, at half-past 7 in the evening. 

Sam. Are you happy, Betsey? 

Bf:t. I have got sointhing to lean on. 

Sam. Don't lean too hard, Betsey. 

Bet. Why? 

Sam. You may be sorry if3ou do. Do you love your hus- 
band, Betsey ? 

Bet 1 don't think love is necessary. I am married, and that 
is enough to sati'jfy anv woman who is more or less reasonable — 
that is the main and important thing ; as I have said, love and 
resi)ect arc- miners. 

Miss G. Miners! 

WiD. D My Doodle nevoi- called it a miner; and he wor- 
shiped the ground 1 walked on, ami the neig'hbors all said he 
did ; they said he loved the ground better than he did me, 
but he didn't, he worshiped us both. 

Sam. Miners, Betsey Bobbett. 

Bet. Mrs. Betsey Bobbett Slimpsey. 

Sam. Wall, Mrs. Betsey Slimpsey, there hain't no more beau- 
tiful sight on earth than to see two human souls out of pure 
love to each other gently approaching each other as if they 
must; and, at last, all their hopes and thoughts and affections 
rwmiiiig together like two (Irops of water in a morning glory 
blow, and to see them nestling there, not caring for nobody 
outside the blow, bound up in each other till the sun evapo- 
rates 'em as it were, and draws 'em together up into the heav- 
ens, not separating 'em even up there. Why such a marriage 



36 

as that is a sight that does men and ang-els crood to look at. 
But when a woman sells herself, swops her purity, her self- 
respect, hei truth and her soul, for any kind of barter, such as 
a home, a few thousand dollars, the name of being- married, a 
horse and buggy, some jewelry, etc.; and not only sells herself, 
but worse than the Turk wimmen, goes 'round herself hunting 
up a buyer : crazy, wild-eyed, afraid she won't find none Sup- 
pose she does liave a minister for a salesman— ray contempt for 
such a female is inmitigable. ' ^ 

Miss G. And so is mine. 

WiD. D. And so would my Doodleses have been ; you could' 
see that by his linement. 

Sam. And I don't want to hear such wimmen talk about in- 
famy. For in what respect are they better than these other infa- 
mous wimmen weall despise ? Do you 'spose their standln" up in 
front of a minister and tellin' a few lies, such as I promise to 
love a man I hate, and honor a man I despise, and obey a luan 
I calculate to make toe the mark? Do yo'> 'spose these few lies 
make 'em any purer in the sight of God ? Marriage is like bap- 
tism, as 1 have said mor'n a hundred tiuies. Yoa have got to 
have the inward grace aud the outward form to m ike it law- 
ful and right. W hat good does the water do if your soul hain't 
baptized w^ith the love of God ? It hain't no better than Tallin' 
into the creek 

Bet. Some of us married folks feel differently, Josiah Allen's 
wife. Let me read to you a short poem of 20 or 30 verses writ- 
ten recently bv a married woman, by she that was formerly 
Betsey Bobbett, now Mrs. Simon Slimpsey. I auj to read it 
to the reception to-night, but I think it will be well for me lo 
read it over so I can deliver it more eloquently. Hear my 
Bridal Owed, hear my Him of Victory 

Sam. How can I be calm and hear it? Oh, John Rogers 1 
and Foxes Martyrs! how I sympathize with you. 

Mrs. p. Oh, Doodle! Doodle! what shall I do to do right ? 

Sam. [In a loio tone ) Nine children, and one at the breast I 
Thumb screws and grid-irons ! (Speaking in he?' usual tone.) No, 
I will not ontie myself from this stake of martyrdom. I vvill 
cling to duty's api;on strings. Simon, if I was in your place, I 
should sweat the five biggest boys to-night, and most of the 
girls. I should give the twins and the smallest girls some 
strong smartweed tea, and I should let the rest of 'em be till 
the Dr. comes. Betsey I will hear the him. (Simon groans, and 
hirys his face in his handkerchief. Betsey ibises and reads :) 

Once grief did rave about my lonely head, 

(flere two oj the children pull at her dress and ash for water, and one 



37 

siys : Gimme a piece of bread'n butter. She tells them to get it 
themselves, and then resumes her reading.) 

Once orief did rave about my lonely head ; 

Once I did droop, as droops a drooping- willow bough ; 

Once I did tune my liah to doleful strains — 

[One of the children calls out) Say, can't you gimme somethin' 
to eat, I'm most starved. {Another says) Won't you lemme have 
some? Say, won't you lemme? (Another, in a loud defiant tone) 
Gimme some; gimnie some quick. 

Bet. [To one of the children) Bring me my thimble. {He brings 
it oMd she puts it on and snaps their heads icith it. and they cry and go 
into a corner and make up faces at her and one of them pinches the child 
in the cradle, and he hides against it and yells.) 

Once I did tunc my liah to doleful strains, 
'Tis past, for Betsey Slimpse}^, formally Bobbett, 
is married now. 

{Here Simon groans so loud that Betsey stops and says): Husband 
keep still and listen to your wife's hiui of victory ! 

No trouble now can touch my haughty head, 
I no liumiliation never more shall know 

Sorrow stand off, my tears have all been shed. 

For Mrs. Betsey Bobbett Slimpsey's married now. 

Mrs. Peedick. I think I shall have to go Betsey, it is getting 
late, and being a bride uiyself, I want to make some changes in 
my clothing. I shall wear uiy vvodding dress. It is blaclv and 
wjiite lawn even checks. [ wanted to look sort of bridy, and 
still 1 wanted to mourn a little at the same time. The white 
cliecks means Elder Peedick, the black checks stands for Doo- 
ble. For oh, what a man that was. 

Sam. Miss Peedick if you don't take my advice, you'll see 
tiouble ahead on you. When a widder man or a widder 
woman, embarks on anew voyage, let 'em burn the ship behind 
'em that they sailed round in, in their former voyages. This 
trying to be a pai-clner and a mourner at one time is gaulin' to 
man or woman Mournin' for Doodle was jest as honorable as 
anything could be ; marryin' Elder Peedick was another hon- 
orable job, and you ort to made up your mind which business 
would be the most 'lappyfyin' and proftable to you, and then 
toiler it up with a willin' mind, but don't try to do both. 
Betsey, we will be here in good season. I have got a nice pres- 
ant for vou, but bein' pretty hefty, I shant probably bring it 
to night. It's a piller case full of dried apples and a jar of butter. 
Josiah will bring a sack of flour. 

Exit Samantha, Mrs. Peedick and Miss G. 



38 • 

Bet. Come, Mr. Sliiiipsey, stand up here by ine and receive 
our bridal congralulations. 

Simon. Yon know T can't stand up, Betsey, not for any length 
of time, most dead \yith the rheumatiz. 

Bet. My husband you must. 

Simon. Why can't you stand up there alone and lemme be. 
I wish you would. I wanted you to go ofi* on a weddin' tower ; 
you was crazy for one and I told you to go, and I'd stay to 
home and tend to thmgs. ami the longer you stayed the better 
I'd like it. But no, you wouldn't go unless I went, and now you 
want to make me stand up there by you half the nigiit, when 
yon know it is all I can do to get up onto my feet any way. 
You don't seem to have no mercy on me at all, orderin' me 
round all the time. 

{One of the children looking out :) There is a hull lot of folks a 
comin'. 

Bet. Husband, you must get up; our bridal guests are arriv 
iog. 

Simon. Wall the:-, give me my cane, and I'll try it 

Bet. And your raiment is disordered ; it looks bad. 

Simon. It looks as well as I feel, I know that. {They stand up, 
Betsey haughtily erect, Simon leaning on his cane, aud occasionally shed 
ding tears They all bring presents, the more ridiculous the better. Jo- 
siah brings a sack of Jiour ; Dr Bombas brings a large bottle of medi- 
cine ; the Editor of the Augur a Hie of th" Augurs etc Thomas J 
ank Tirzah Ann comes in first, congratulate!^ them ) 

Bet. {2)roudly) i thank vou, Mr. Allen, I tliank von Miss 
Allen. 

Simon, {mournfully) I told your mother how it \>-ould be 

Bet. {hunching him. whimpers) How you act ! Do put on some 
style ; thank him. 

Simon. Much obreged. I knew {He stops and wipes his 

eyes Betsey reproves him for his actions, and just then Elder Peedick 
and wife enter.) 

Eld. p. My wife. Miss Peedick 

Simon. [Grasping her hand) Widder, you can feel lor me ; you 
heve seen trouble. 

Mrs. p. Oh yes, I see trouble when I lost Doodle. 

Eld. p. [froicning) Miss Peedick. the subject of Doodle, 
hain't at all appropriate for the occasion. [Several come up and 
wish them joy, at last Shakespeare Bobbett.) 



39 

S. B. I wish you joy, Mi-. Slimpsey. 

Simon. Oh yes ; keep on ! keep it up ! 

Dr. B. Mr. and Mrs. Slimpsey, I wish you prosperity and 
health I can safeh/ promise you the iatter [loaving his hand to- 
wards the medicine) Take it according to directions, 40 drops 
every half hour, and if you don't get better send for me. 
Dies irae anno domini. Excuse dead language 

Simon. Oh yes ; I'll excuse it. I believe it is better ofl* than 

we be. [Edior of Augur and bride come last.) 

Ed. A.cce[)t my hearty congratulations. I can truly say that 
1 never felt more heartfelt happiness and relief than on this 
occasion. 

Simon. Well you may teel happy ; well you may. 

Ed. I am not a natural singer, in fact, my efforts in that di- 
rection have always been of such a nature as to cause sadness 
to my best friends ; but on this occasion I feel like bursting 
forth into song. And we will now wit!) the permission of Mr. 
and Mrs. Slimpsey, gi-eet iheui with a bridal song. 

Bkt. Oh, yes ; sing to us -^ome rejoicing authcni, or some 
sweet and tendeli love song. 

Simon. Can't you sing China ? 

Ed. Why. th;it is a funeral hymn, Mr. Slimpsey. 

Simon. 1 know it has been used as such, but it seems as if it 
would be a sort of a melancholy pleasure to me to hear it now. 
But [hain't peticular ; sing anything — sing, it you feel like it. 

Mrs. p. Thev sung China to Doodleses funeral. 

Eld. p. { Looking very angry ) Doodleses name hain't no name 
to be used on this occasion, Miss Peedick. I wish to gracious 
that [ could get five minutes rest from Doodle. 

Mrs p. Wall he had a beautiful linement on him. 

Eld. p. [very cross) What if he had ? 

. Mrs. p. But you have got a beautiful linement, too. You 
are what would be called very handsome. 

Eld. p. [siceetly) You are a sensible woman, Miss Peedick. 
You are a lovely woman. Every day of your life you make 
me think more and more of the corpse. But I suppose they 
are waiting for me to pitch the tune. Being leader of the 
quire they naturally lean on me for harmony. So we will now 
sing the bridal song, kindly arranged for this happy occasion 
by the Editor of the Augur. {They all sing to the tune of the jubi- 
lee song^ '■Mary and Maj-tha'^s jus^ gone along " 



40 . • 

Betsey Bobbett's married now, 
Betsey Bobbett's married now, 
Betsey Bobbett's married now, 
So ring- the marriage bells. [Simon grorms). 

It is the way she long has sought. 
And mourned because she found it not, 
But now she's reached that blissful lot; 
So ring her wedding bells. (Simon groans and buries his 
face in his haiidkerchief. 

'Tis Betsey Bobbett Sliinpsey, how, 
With joy she took that blessed vow, 
She's Simon's wife forever now ; 
So ring their wedding bells. 

{Simon uncovers his face and says in a heart hrolcen tone): Couldn't 
you ioZnhe bells? But I don't want to make no trouble. I 
don't feel like arguin', ring 'em if you drather, ring 'em if you 
feel like it. {They fay no attention to him, and hecovers his face with 
his handkerchief again and loeeps aloud. ; they turn to the audience and 
sing): 

Good night, and pleasant dreams, 
Hearts full of sunny gleams ; 
Good nig'-'t, and happy dreams, 
.And ring ve merrv bells. 



3477-17 
67 



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